Faith, Hope, and Love
by la lisboa
Summary: Because there are Charming family feels that must be felt. One chapter per episode of missing moments in season three. 3x07: Continuation of Mary Margaret and David's conversation in the woods: Mary Margaret's committed to staying on the island, but what about Emma? Spoilers.
1. Heart

**Disclaimer:** As always, nothing you recognize from the show belongs to me.

**A/N:** Sigh, another season of Once, another season of missing moments (read: MISSED OPPORTUNITIES) for the Charming family. I'm going to attempt to fill them in for us because the feels potential must be realized. This wasn't beta'd, so any mistakes are mine!

Obvious spoilers for 3x01.

* * *

The waves of nausea come suddenly and strong, making her freeze in her tracks. She allows Regina and Hook to pass her and hopes they don't notice how pale she has become – although, to be fair, they probably aren't even looking at her face. Her head is pounding from the impact of hitting whatever that was that fell from the Jolly Roger, and she squeezes her eyes shut as her world begins to spin.

"Emma?"

The last thing she wants to hear is her mother's voice, that sweet tone dripping with concern. She wishes she had the strength to tell Mary Margaret to ignore her, just as Regina and Hook have, but the words don't come. When she opens her mouth to speak, the dam is broken and she begins to violently cough up more water.

"Emma!"

She crouches down, hiding her face, her embarrassment, as more sea water comes up. She is supposed to be their leader, she has given herself that mantle, but she is failing them now, brought low by her own shortsightedness.

She feels a hand on her shoulder that she knows belongs to Mary Margaret, but she doesn't look up. To her chagrin, she distinctly hears footsteps stop, and knows that the entire party has stopped and is waiting on account of her.

"Go on, I've got this," Mary Margaret says from Emma's side. Apparently no one has moved because when she says "Go" again, her tone is harsher, more final. Emma hears the footsteps moving again and knows that Regina and Hook at least are moving forward. She's not sure what David will do, if he will try to fulfill his duty as father by staying by his sick daughter's side, or if he will give her the space she so desperately wants.

When she hears footsteps again, she knows that David has chosen to leave, and she's grateful. She tells herself she'll find a way to thank him later, and then remembers she hasn't even thanked him for saving her life. She's not sure what's more embarrassing: the fact she needed saving in the first place, or the fact she can't bring herself to thank him because it would just be too damn awkward.

Mary Margaret's hand has moved to her back and is moving in circles. The tenderness of her mother's touch makes her feel even guiltier for snapping at her earlier. In this moment, when it's just the two of them in some godforsaken jungle, she remembers what it was like to be with Mary Margaret, her friend, her roommate, and not Mary Margaret, her mother, Snow White.

"Are you feeling better?" Mary Margaret asks softly.

Emma shrugs, not wanting to say no, but knowing she can't get away with saying yes. Instead she sits back on her heels, pushing herself away from the pool of regurgitated sea water on the jungle floor. Mary Margaret sits down next to her and raises a hand to brush Emma's long hair from her face.

"Don't," Emma hisses, harsher than she has intended.

Mary Margaret's eyes widen as though she's been slapped. "I was just – I only wanted to-"

"I know what you wanted," Emma says. She glares at her as if to say, _But_ _I don't want to be mothered._

Emma sighs and turns away. She knows she's hurting Mary Margaret, and that's not her intention, but she can't deal with the affection. She doesn't want to be touched, be reassured, by someone _her own age._ She spent her whole life wanting a mother, but she doesn't want this. She'd tried to convey that to Mary Margaret and David earlier, that it made no sense for them to talk about life wisdom as though they had lived longer, as though they'd had more life experiences than she had, when they clearly hadn't.

"You shouldn't have done it," Mary Margaret says.

Emma narrows her eyes at her. "You wouldn't stop fighting. I had to do something."

"But risking your life like that?" Mary Margaret looks almost scared that Emma would have even considered taking such drastic action. "Emma, you have to think about the consequences of your actions. It's not just you anymore."

"Yeah?" Emma challenges. "Well, excuse me for taking a bit longer than you'd like to get used to that idea."

She expects her to recoil, maybe even get up and leave, but instead Mary Margaret just looks at her sadly. "When are you going to let me in?"

"Maybe once I know you're not going to let me down."

Emma wonders if she's being unfair, but she doesn't take back what she said. Not even when Mary Margaret's eyes fill with tears and she quickly turns away so that her daughter can't see them. She can't comfort her now, can't even process everything she's feeling. She feels like her heart has been ripped out and smashed into a million pieces on the floor. Losing Neal, losing Henry. Her growing frustration and fear that she'll never see her son again. It's all too much to bear, and the emotions come in such a rush, she's glad her mother can't see the tears that have crept into her own eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Mary Margaret whispers finally.

"For what?" Emma asks.

Mary Margaret looks at her, and Emma's relieved to see the tears are now gone. "For everything," she says earnestly. "For fighting. For scaring you. For whatever else you blame me and your father for. Just – I'm sorry, Emma. I'm so, so sorry."

Emma sighs. "I'm sorry, too." She pauses and then decides that she trusts Mary Margaret enough to say it. "I'm scared."

Mary Margaret nods. "I know. I am, too."

"Your optimism scares me," Emma admits. "I – I'm not like that. I didn't grow up like you did. I didn't grow up believing everything would be okay."

"And I'm sorry for that, too," Mary Margaret whispers.

"I don't need you to be sorry," Emma says. "I don't need sorry. I need action. I need you to understand me. I need you to see what I don't see the world the way you do. Why there isn't just one way to do things, some magical right way that will just appear and somehow always work. I just need things to work. And sometimes they might not get done the right way, and that's okay."

"Emma-"

"No, let me finish," Emma cuts her off. "You and David only understand doing things the so-called right way. But you don't see that the world isn't black and white. You don't see that it's not a choice between good and evil. It's not a choice about hero or villain. It's about everything in between." Emma hesitates and then adds, "I thought you saw that when Cora died. That there is dark and light in all of us. And we're all capable of both."

She sees in Mary Margaret's expression that this possibility scares her, that she doesn't want to even consider the possibility that Snow White could have any inkling of darkness inside of her. Emma doesn't need Mary Margaret's world view, her moral compass, to change entirely, but she can't have Snow White's morality getting in the way of her attempts to find her son.

"How do you know?" Mary Margaret asks. "How do you know that what you're doing is good and not evil, if it's not right?"

Emma bites her lip. "I don't know," she admits. "You don't always know. But you can't always do what's good in a way that's right." Mary Margaret looks confused, so Emma tries to clarify. "When I'm faced with a choice between fighting to the death to get my son, or losing him forever, I'm going to fight to the death."

"But aren't you scared about what that will do to you?" Mary Margaret whispers. "Inviting that kind of darkness into your heart?"

"No." Emma shakes her head.

"Why?" Mary Margaret wants to know.

Emma smiles. "Because I have faith that I'll know when to stop."

* * *

**A/N:** Would people be interested in reading a missing moments chapter for each episode? Please review and let me know!


	2. Orphan

**Disclaimer:** Nothing you recognize from the show that made me tear up tonight belongs to me.

**A/N:** Thank you so, so much for the overwhelmingly positive response to the first chapter/post-ep. I am going to try to do one post-ep for each episode, to be posted within 24 hours of the episode's airing. At least, that's the goal I'm setting for myself.

Tonight's episode was FANTASTIC on the Charming family feels front, except for one glaring omission: CHARMING. Would it kill the show to allow Emma to have one moment with her father instead of her mother?

Oh wait, that's what fanfiction's for.

* * *

She keeps the map in her pocket. She tells herself it's to keep it safe from Regina, lest she try to put another spell on it, but if Emma's being honest with herself, she knows there's another reason. It's a part of her now, a true reflection of herself. She's relieved she finally got the map to work, but only because she figured out Pan's riddle, not because of what that map says about her, about her family.

Or, more accurately, her lack thereof.

She's keeping her distance from her mother because she knows that this realization hurts her, too. Mary Margaret will want to fix this, to fill this void that's really a chasm as quickly as possible. But she's not ready to listen to another round of apologies just yet. Because the fact of the matter is, Mary Margaret has apologized to her several times now for that decision to put her into a wardrobe, to send her away for twenty-eight years, and hearing the explanation again is not going to make a difference.

She pulls out the map again, and tells herself it's because she wants to make sure the map hasn't actually disappeared, but really, she's marveling at how a simple piece of parchment could act as a mirror. The thing is, it's not showing her anything she didn't already know. It's showing her things Mary Margaret and David didn't know, perhaps, because they'd been actual orphans, with dead parents, not parents who were absent for their entire lives who suddenly came back. But the fact she's an orphan, a lost girl, is not news to her.

It's strange, and sad, she reflects, that it's easier for her to admit she's an orphan than to admit she's the savior. That she could be someone important. Orphan's just a label; she was around several orphans growing up, and she never denied that she was one the way she'd denied being the savior. It's an ugly truth to realize, perhaps, just one more reminder of how much distance there is between her and her parents, but it's a truth she's accepted.

Emma's about to put the map away when David sits down on the log next to her. She wonders if he wants to see the map, and offers it to him, but he shakes his head. She stows the map in her pocket once again and turns to face her father.

Both her parents grew up as orphans, and yet, it's Mary Margaret who's really pushing for a spot in her life. She can't quite figure David out, if he feels like he has to follow Mary Margaret's lead on this because she's spent more time with Emma and somehow knows her daughter best (Emma disagrees), or if he feels that Mary Margaret has more in common with her because they are both mothers who didn't raise their children.

"You got it to work," he says. She can't tell from his tone if Mary Margaret has told him how, exactly, she got the map to work, or if he's waiting to hear it from her. "I knew you could do it."

"Thanks," Emma replies. She hopes Mary Margaret's already told him. She doesn't think she can see that expression of hurt on another parent's face just yet.

But her hopes are dashed when David asks, "So how did you do it?"

Emma hesitates for a moment. It's bad enough hurting her mother, but now she has to hurt her father, too. But she knows it's not fair, he's just as much her parent as Mary Margaret is, even if Mary Margaret is more aggressive about it. Finally she smiles sadly. "I'm an orphan."

"Were," he corrects her gently after a moment. "You _were_ an orphan."

But Emma's already shaking her head. "I still am."

David's face falls. "What do you mean?" he asks. "You're not an orphan. You thought you were, but you have us now – Mary Margaret and I. We're your parents-"

"No," Emma interrupts him. "I mean, yes, you are. But…" She trails off and exhales, trying to find the right way to say this, if there is a right way. "But you don't erase being an orphan just because you get your parents back." David frowns, but he nods slightly, which Emma takes as a sign to continue. "Finding out you have parents doesn't erase the twenty-eight years of feeling abandoned."

David reaches for her hand, and Emma almost pulls back, but instead allows him to take it. He holds it gently in his own, and she watches his face, wondering if, in that moment, he's remembering the last time he held her hand like this, when she was a baby, right before he put her in the wardrobe.

Right before he abandoned her.

"I'm an orphan because I grew up alone," Emma explains. "Because I cried myself to sleep at night in several different homes before age sixteen. Because I never had anyone who loved me. And all I knew about my parents, the two people in the world who were supposed to love me no matter what, was that they'd abandoned me on the side of a road. They hadn't even bothered to drop me off at a hospital."

"But we didn't-"

"But I didn't know that," Emma cuts him off. She meets his eyes, because she needs him to really hear what she's going to say next. "And knowing it now doesn't erase the twenty-eight years that I was alone." She sighs. "I appreciate you're trying, but you can't just become my parents overnight. You're here now, but you're not – but I'm still-"

"Alone," he finishes for her. He squeezes her hand and Emma wonders if he finally understands what she means. He doesn't look as hurt as Mary Margaret, perhaps because he hasn't tried to play the role of father as vigorously as Mary Margaret's tried to play mother, but she knows her words can't be easy to hear.

"I don't know how we can make that up to you," David murmurs, dropping his gaze to their interlocked hands.

"You can't," Emma replies, which catches David's attention. He looks up, and she can see the fear in his eyes, fear that his daughter is so lost, he can never find her again. "We have to move forward," she explains. "You can't go back and change how I felt the past twenty-eight years. You can't just stick a label on and call it a day. It's not about making it up to me, it's about being here with me now.

"I'll always have grown up an orphan," she says. "But that doesn't mean I have to be lost."

"Emma…" He trails off, but she doesn't need him to continue. She knows what she's giving him, and what it means. It's a chance to be her father, to be her family, and she doesn't need him to say how much it means to him.

How much it means to both of them.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you enjoyed! Like I said, I'll be attempting to post a chapter a week, so put this story on your follow list if you want to be the first to know! Also, if you're in a Gremma mood, please consider checking out my current multi-chapter WIP, **I See the Light**. Have a great week everyone, and please tell me what you thought in a review!


	3. Wounds

**Disclaimer:** Nothing belongs to me!

**A/N:** Sorry it took a bit longer to get this posted. I wasn't able to watch the episode until today. It was quite lacking in the Charming family feels department, although it was a solid episode overall (and pandered A LOT to a lot of different shippers, I'm just saying...) Since my goal is to make all of these pieces canon-compliant, I don't want to do anything too elaborate. Obviously the show will have Charming tell his family about the wound eventually, so I don't want to write that prematurely...Instead, I'll try to explore WHY he doesn't tell them (besides him being a grade-A idiot).

I actually think this is my first time writing Charming. Hope it doesn't suck...

* * *

Hook told him to tell her.

Thing is, he's not entirely sure to which "her" the pirate was referring.

He knows who it's not. It's not the one in blue, bringing up the rear of the line this time. It's not the one who won't care, who wouldn't do anything about it even if she could (and he's wondered if she could), unless she could somehow make it worth her while. But since her sole purpose for existence seems to be the destruction of his wife, he knows there's no way she would do something that would spare her that kind of pain. No, his death would condemn his wife to a lifetime of suffering, and he knows that _she_ would jump at the chance to make that happen. Especially if it could happen without her having to lift a finger.

He shifts his position, careful not to wake his wife, who has fallen asleep in his arms. He can feel the gentle weight of her head pressed against his chest, her fingers curled around his arm as she clings to him. When he holds her like this, he's reminded of how fragile she is. She doesn't look it, especially not when she's got the bow at her side and the quiver on her back, but when he holds her, when they become one, he knows how much losing him would break her. And he's vowed never to let that happen.

Until now.

The wound is growing worse. He imagines the lines of poison ground the mark growing darker, thicker, extending over his torso. The pixie dust had been his last hope, his only hope really. He's made several deals with the devil but now the devil is gone, off somewhere in the forest, or who knows where. He only knows two other people who can do magic. One of them would never help him. And the other he's afraid to ask.

He's not entirely sure _why_ he's so afraid to ask his daughter for help, just that he knows that he is. In some ways, she would be the best person to tell. She keeps her emotions hidden; she won't go to pieces on him if he tells her he's dying. But he also knows the role that _he_ himself played in making her that way. He's the one who put her in the wardrobe. He's the one who had kissed her goodbye. It may have been his wife's decision to let her go, but he's ultimately the one that did it. And now he can see the price she's paid for those twenty-eight years alone. It's a lifetime of debt that he owes her, and he can't bear to ask her for anything else.

But then he thinks of what will happen if he doesn't tell her. Dreamshade is a drawn-out, painful death, the operative word there being death. If he doesn't find a cure, he's going to die. And he doesn't want his daughter to feel like it's her fault if she can't find a way to save him.

On the other hand, he can't bear the thought of leaving her.

"Hey."

He looks up to see Emma approaching him. She takes the seat next to him before he can warn her about how uncomfortable the jungle floor is. He hasn't noticed it before, but the camp has grown quiet. Hook is either asleep or pretending to be, and Regina and Tinkerbell have stopped talking behind the tree. Despite the fact they are surrounded by other people, in that moment, he feels like he's alone with his daughter.

"Are you okay?" she asks. Her voice is quiet. He tells himself it's because she's trying not to wake her mother, and not because she's scared to ask him what's wrong.

He nods. "Yeah. Just tired."

But she doesn't nod in return, doesn't shrug or smile or otherwise accept this answer. Instead she continues to stare at him, as though she will somehow figure out what's wrong. He's fleetingly reminded of her so-called superpower, and while he never really believed she could always tell when people were lying, now he's not so certain.

"Are you sure?" she whispers.

He looks at her and imagines what it would be like to tell her. To admit that he'd been injured and poisoned and that he was dying. That he had days, maybe weeks, left to live. That she was going to lose her father, again, and this time it would be permanent. He can't bring himself to hurt her.

"Yes," he replies. Then to change course, he asks, "Are you?"

Emma sighs and to his surprise she leans closer to him. Carefully, he snakes out one of his arms from under his wife's body and wraps it around her shoulders, bringing her closer. He can feel the tension radiating from her body, can feel the toll the stress of Pan's duplicity and worry about Henry and difficulty contending with four other people who could never really get along is taking on her. He turns his head and gently presses a kiss into her hair, and is heartened when she doesn't pull away.

"I could use some optimism," she admits.

His heart nearly breaks when she says it. Because he could use some of his own famous optimism too, right about now.

"You're going to find him," he promises. "I know it."

She raises her head and gives him a quizzical look. "Don't you mean we?"

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before smiling. "Yes, of course. We."

But as Emma lays her head back down on his shoulder, he feels his stomach twist into knots. It's one thing not to tell her, another to lie and make a promise he can't keep. He's had so few chances to be a father, and with every breath, he wonders if he's on his last one. He's already promised himself that the least he can do for her after abandoning her for her entire life is to help her get her son back. He'll do whatever it takes so that she can see her son again, to watch him grow up, as he'd never watched her.

But he wants to be there, too. The thought of leaving them – his daughter, his grandson, his wife – is too painful to consider. He's never been one to give up, and he's sure as hell not going to start now.

"Emma?"

But she doesn't respond. He shifts slightly so he can see her face, and he sees that she's fallen asleep. He wonders if it's a sign he shouldn't tell her.

But when he thinks about how it feels to have his family by his side, his wife asleep in his arms and his daughter on his shoulder, he knows he would give anything not to lose this.

He has to tell her.

* * *

**A/N:** Hopefully next week's episode will give me more to work with! As a side note, I'm always open to ideas about specific scenes to write, so feel free to send along your ideas in a PM or review!


	4. Loss

**Disclaimer:** Nada es mio.

**A/N:** So...the Charmings were in this episode for like five minutes. Here's to having five minutes more.

* * *

She doesn't run far. Her desire to put as much space between herself and her feelings, her parents, Neal's cave – everything – is outweighed only by her fear of getting lost. Her emotions are spilling over, but she's rational enough to realize that if she gets lost in here, she'll never be found, no matter what the family motto is.

After a while, she hears someone coming up behind her, but she doesn't move. She doesn't want to talk to whoever it is. She can't deal with her mother trying to understand her feelings, and if it's Hook, she doesn't want him to see her like this. Emotional. Broken. Weak.

"Emma?"

But it's David. The footsteps stop and then she feels a hand on her shoulder. She senses that he came alone and is momentarily surprised that Mary Margaret didn't come with him. She never gets these moments alone with her father.

"You okay?"

His tone is hesitant, uncertain. She appreciates that he's giving her time to collect herself, that he isn't throwing himself at her in an attempt to comfort her. She doesn't want to be coddled and she doesn't need to be hugged. She wants to hit something, although at the moment, that doesn't seem like a particularly viable option.

She quickly dries her eyes before turning around. "Yeah."

He removes his hand from her shoulder. She notices how he reaches for her hand before apparently thinking better of it and letting his hand drop to his side. She suddenly finds herself wishing he hadn't and even surprises herself when she steps closer to him. She doesn't want to ask, but he doesn't need her to. He closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around her, folding her into his chest.

"It'll get better," he promises softly. "I know it hurts now, but it'll – Time will pass and it will hurt less. And you'll move on. You'll get past this."

Emma sighs, trying to keep the tears at bay. She understands what he's telling her, knows it's probably the same thing she would tell someone else if she were trying to comfort them. But the words don't help. They don't explain anything, can't make her feel a certain way. They can't take away the pain of losing him over and over again. Every time she thinks she's coming to terms with his death, she'll stumble upon another reason to be mad at him and it will tear all the wounds open again.

"How?" she whispers.

David sighs. "You just…" He hesitates and Emma glances at him. "You just have to move on."

Emma narrows her eyes. "How can you say that?" She pulls away from him and crosses her arms across her chest. "How can you expect me to believe that if something happened to Mary Margaret, you would just move on? That you'd really go on living? That you'd find a way to be happy?"

"I would," he assures her. "I'd have to."

Emma bites her lip. She knows she can't tell him how he feels (she knows how she hates it when anyone tries to do that to her) but she doesn't believe him. She knows he's wrong. _She_, after all, is the product of true love. It's just not possible to find that with more than one person, if you find it with anyone at all.

"But _she'd_ never move on," Emma argues. "Mary Margaret wouldn't move on if you died."

Pain clouds his features and for a long time, he doesn't respond. "She'd have to," he says finally. "And she would. She knows that I'd want her to."

"She doesn't!" Emma exclaims. She can't stand his matter-of-fact tone. It's gone from comforting to almost cruel. She knows he's trying to help, but his words aren't making her feel any better. "How does she know that? How could you tell her that? You don't just have a conversation with the love of your life like, 'Oh, by the way, if anything were to happen to me, please find someone else to love!'"

"Emma," he begins gently, "Neal would want you to move on. I know I didn't know him very well, but I do know that if he loved you, he wouldn't want you to do this to yourself."

"You don't know anything," Emma snaps.

"Maybe not," he concedes. "But I know what I'd want Mary Margaret to do."

Emma looks at him and sadly shakes her head. "What you want and what she'd do aren't the same. I've seen the way she is without you. I remember what it was like, before the curse was broken, when she couldn't be with you because you were with Kathryn." She draws a shaky breath. She hasn't thought about these memories in a long time. She wonders if her parents have ever discussed what it was like for them before the curse was broken.

"I remember how upset she was then, and you were still alive," she continues quietly. "You couldn't be together, but at least you were still there. She could still see you. Still hear your voice. You didn't leave her." Emma pauses to collect herself, but she can feel the now-familiar waves of emotion building in her chest. "If you were gone, she wouldn't make it. She's not strong enough." Emma feels her lower lip begin to quiver and she bites the inside of it to keep the tears from spilling. "I don't think I am either."

"Emma," he breathes, and that's all it takes for the tears to start again. She hates that she's crying this much, hates that she's being so emotional, but now that she's started, she just can't stop.

"I can't move on," she cries as he folds her into a hug once again. She buries her face in his shoulder. She feels his hand on her back, tracing circles, but she keeps her face hidden. She's known in her heart that she can't move on, that something's holding her back – her anger, her guilt, her fear over losing Henry, her last tangible connection to Neal – but saying it aloud makes it all the more real.

"It's okay," he murmurs as he holds her. "It's okay. It's all going to be okay."

And for one moment, Emma allows herself to believe that her father's words could be true.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading, reviewing, following, and/or favoriting this story. You're all wonderful and I really appreciate your support. I'm so glad that so many people are enjoying these post-eps. Your feedback makes it all worth it.


	5. Goodness

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing you recognize!

**A/N:** Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last post-ep. I'm so glad that so many people are enjoying these chapters. This past episode was very polarizing for me. On the one hand, I loved it. On the other, there were some things that really, really bugged. Charming being a jerk to Hook (breaking up my brotp, sob) was one of those things...

Since we've had a lot of Charming's POV, I decided to write for Snow's for once. A little more Snowing for everyone. Their reunion (and Emma's and Regina's one-liners - classic!) was definitely one of the highlights for me.

* * *

When she's lying in his arms later, she thinks about how much she's missed this. They've been together constantly in Neverland, but they've never really been alone. Perhaps it's because she's never willing to leave Emma to the mercy of Regina and Hook (although by now she should know that her daughter's more than capable of taking care of herself), or because she has been so focused on finding her grandson, but this is the first time she's been alone with her husband in…she doesn't know how long.

And even now, she's lying in his arms, and her thoughts turn to Emma. What she'd done earlier. How she's let Regina take that boy's heart. She can still feel her daughter's arms around her, her daughter's chin resting on her shoulder as she whispers that she's sorry. She can still hear that awful gasp, that terrible squelch as Regina yanked the boy's heart from his chest.

She realizes that she's scared of her own daughter, what her own flesh and blood is capable of. She thought they were on the same page about where to draw the line, but now it seems that Emma's proven her wrong. She thinks back to the fight with Pan when Emma had refused to kill one of the Lost Boys. How her daughter had confessed that she saw herself in him because they were both orphans. She wonders where that daughter has gone now.

David's fingers brush her cheek. She covers his hand with hers and moves their hands to her lips, pressing a kiss into his palm. His breath is warm against the back of her neck as he murmurs, "What's wrong?"

He knows; somehow, he always senses when something is wrong. She knows there's no use in lying because he'll see through it right away, he always has, but she's not sure she wants to say it. She doesn't want to burden him with the knowledge that their own daughter might resemble their worst enemy more than them. And she knows, she _knows_, that Emma's not the one who had taken that boy's heart. Her daughter's not the one who had controlled him from afar, putting words into his mouth, like Cora had once done to Aurora. Regina did that.

And yet, no matter what Emma says, no matter what Regina says, she's bothered by the fact that Emma ultimately had a choice. Regina had appealed to her for approval; if her daughter had said no, would Regina still have done it? That uncertainty gives her pause.

"Snow," he breathes. "Tell me."

Snow. _Snow._ He _never_ calls her Snow anymore, not in twenty-eight years. She's not really sure why he doesn't; she wonders if it's even a conscious decision. She still struggles with reconciling those two halves of herself, Snow and Mary Margaret. Banished princess and schoolteacher. She knows he must be struggling, too.

But when he touches her cheek again, she turns around to face him. His eyes are deep with concern, one of the many things she's always loved about him. He stares at her for a moment before slowly leaning in and kissing her softly. She sighs and closes her eyes.

"Did something happen?"

When she opens her eyes, he still staring at her intently, searching her face for an answer. She knows in that moment that she can't keep it from him, and she whispers, "Yes."

"What?" he asks, his tone immediately worried. "Is it Henry? Regina?"

"No." She shakes her head. "It's Emma."

It strikes her as telling that her daughter's the last one he's worried about. Not because he doesn't care about her (she knows that he loves her, would do anything for her) but because he knows she can take care of herself. Or maybe it's because the only thing he's worried about with Emma is what a certain pirate would likely do with her if he had the chance.

She decides not to point out that they've left Emma alone with Hook now.

"What happened?" he prompts her.

She sighs, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. After a moment, she says, "She let Regina take a heart."

David's eyes widen. "What? She – Regina killed someone?" he asks in alarm.

"No," she replies. "No, she didn't kill anyone."

"Then, what?"

"We captured one of Pan's boys in our trap," she begins quietly. "We wanted him to deliver a message to Henry from us, tell him that we're coming, and not to lose hope. But he didn't want to do it." She feels David's fingers curl around hers, urging her to continue. "You can make someone do or say what you want by taking their heart. Emma and I saw Cora do it in the Enchanted Forest. Regina wanted to take the boy's heart and force him to give Henry the message."

"Okay," David says slowly. "And Emma let her?"

She nods. "She agreed. She thought it was the only way to get Henry the message. And I – I know that it was," she continues quickly, when David opens his mouth to interject. "I know we probably had no other option, and that we had to get him a message somehow." She pauses, drawing a breath. "But I can't – _we _can't – stoop to Regina's level. We can't do the things that she does, not even to get Henry back. There has to be a line. And I thought that – I know that – you and I understand that. And I thought Emma did, too." She swallows hard. "But now I'm not so sure."

"She's a good person, Snow," he says quietly, and for a moment, they're no longer in Neverland, but the castle in the Enchanted Forest, talking late into the night about who they wanted their child to be. "I think she knows where to draw the line. It's just that maybe…" He sighs. "Maybe she just doesn't draw it in the same place that we do."

"But the darkness," she protests. "We can't let her put that kind of darkness into her heart."

"She knows there's a line," he assures her. "She didn't kill the boy. She didn't take his heart herself."

"But that's just it," she interrupts. "I thought I knew where the line was, too. But I…" She stops, collecting herself. These memories are still painful. "I thought I could push the line. I made an exception for Cora. And every day I'm paying the price."

"That was different," he begins, but she cuts him off, shaking her head.

"It's not. And even if it is now, it won't be later. What if she kills someone to get Henry back? Would we let her do that?"

He considers her question in silence for a long time before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "No," he answers. "We won't let her do that." He looks down so he's meeting her eyes. "If it comes to that – if it really is a choice between saving Henry and taking a life – then I'll do it."

She inhales sharply. "You can't."

He shakes his head. "I may have to. I will get our daughter her son back. Even if…"

"What?" she prompts him quietly when he doesn't continue. "Even if what?"

But she's afraid of his answer, and she's even more afraid of the determined look in his eye when he says, "Even if it means inviting the darkness into my own heart."

* * *

**A/N:** Please review and let me know what you thought! As always, I invite ideas for future chapters, in reviews or PMs. That includes PMs sent after the episode airs. If you have a great idea, I'd love to hear it.


	6. Secrets

**Disclaimer:** Nothing you recognize belongs to me.

**A/N:** Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I really appreciated the feedback! I apologize that this one is a bit shorter than usual. This episode absolutely killed me. To be honest, I can't see anyone in that family having a conversation for a while - they all need time to process. I'd like to see Emma and Mary Margaret talk about David, but I don't think Emma's in any condition to speak to Mary Margaret just now. So instead I wrote a short David/Emma scene. I definitely hope we see the aftermath of those confessions play out on the show, though. Come on, writers. Just this once.

* * *

"You really kissed Hook?"

She turns around upon hearing David's voice and is surprised to see that Mary Margaret isn't with him. She glances around, not wanting to have this conversation within the earshot of anyone, but there's no one else around. Neal left when she told him she wanted to be alone, and Hook's been nowhere to be found since they got out of the Echo Cave.

She turns back to her father and raises her eyebrows, challenging him. "Yeah?" _At least I didn't make you watch._

He stares at her for a moment, and she's reminded of his horrified expression upon hearing Hook's confession. But she doesn't drop her gaze from his, or even stop glaring until he looks away.

"Why?" he asks.

Emma shrugs. She hadn't been able to explain it to Mary Margaret either. Did there need to be a reason? Why does anyone do anything?

"Because I wanted to."

She sees how his eyes widen, how this very confession seems to set him on edge. She could remind him of how Hook saved his life, something that David himself had confessed (although now she knows he was lying about the exact circumstances). But she doesn't feel the need to justify herself to her father – to anyone for that matter. She can barely justify it to herself. She hasn't thought through it yet, hasn't had the time, and now that Neal's back, it just became ten times more complicated.

"But you love Neal, right?"

If she weren't so overwhelmed with emotion, she would have made room for the exasperation she felt at her father trying to interfere with her love life. This is so damn parental, it makes her sick. Sure, she'd told Mary Margaret, and even that decision had surprised her. But she'd needed to tell someone, and after all, she'd had a relationship with Mary Margaret before the curse had broken, when they'd been roommates. This is the kind of thing she could have told her then.

She doesn't know what to say. It's a fair question, she supposes; after all, he witnessed her meltdown outside of Neal's cave not too long ago. But her confession to Neal, the one David hasn't heard, still weighs on her mind. She doesn't know _how_ she feels about Neal anymore. She doesn't know how she feels about anything.

Finally she settles on, "I don't know."

He looks up, and she sees his expression is gentle, sympathetic even. Like he's finally understood that this is not the time to be asking her to explain anything else about herself. That she can't reveal anything more about herself right now. Not after what she's already said, and not after everything she's heard.

It suddenly dawns on her why Mary Margaret isn't there. She remembers watching her mother's face crumple and then harden with anger. With a painful twinge, she thinks about when she'd had to keep David away from Mary Margaret back in Storybrooke, after he had accused her of having something to do with Kathryn's disappearance. It had been hard being between them then, and it would be even harder now. Not to mention much more awkward, since they were her parents.

"Why didn't you tell her?" The words fall from her lips before she can stop them, but she doesn't want to take them back. He asked her a fair question, and this is a fair question, too. She's always thought of her parents as nauseatingly romantic, but his keeping this secret from Mary Margaret doesn't seem to fit.

"I didn't want to hurt her," he mutters.

Emma almost rolls her eyes. _Of course_ he would think that. His sense of nobility is blinding. "But you do realize," she begins slowly, "that by not telling her, now you've only hurt her more?"

"And you." It's not a question.

"I-" Emma hesitates. She doesn't want to make him feel worse, but she doesn't want to lie. Instead she says, "It's not the worst thing I heard."

Mary Margaret's secret hurts her more than she'd like to admit. She knows it's unfair and maybe irrational, but she feels like she's being replaced. She hates that she feels like a three-year-old, upset that Mommy and Daddy are having another baby. Her brain is telling her that having another baby will not replace her.

But her heart is telling her something else. Because she just can't get her mother's words out of her head. Her parents _had_ missed her growing up; they had missed all those milestones. _She_ would have been their baby, the one to give them those memories, the one whom Snow White (there would have been no Mary Margaret) could have taught to walk, and talk, and dress for her first ball. But none of that happened because of the curse. And the only way to have those memories now was to have another child. No matter what anyone says, a new baby would replace her. It would make up for the fact they'd never raised her.

And she's not sure she can handle that.

Her chest tightens at this realization and she forces herself to keep blinking at the ground. She can't look up, she's too afraid of David's expression. Too afraid that if she sees the hurt and pain mirrored on her father's face, she'll be moved to tears.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

She's not sure for what – for what Mary Margaret said? For the fact that he had kept his fatal injury from them? For being overprotective when it came to Hook? For being unable to leave Neverland?

When she does look up, David's eyes are downcast. She realizes that he doesn't know either.

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**A/N: **Comments and reviews are most welcome! Hopefully I'll be able to write a longer scene next week.


	7. Need

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing you recognize from the show.

**A/N: **I admit, I almost didn't write anything at all for the last episode. I really disliked it (except for a few brief moments) and thought it was actually worse than some of the episodes in the back half of season 2 (already an incredibly low bar). One of the only redeeming qualities was the Snowing fight/confrontation/whatever that was. I wish we'd gotten to see more of the fallout from the cave (I mean, really? How's Emma feeling about all this?) but maybe I should be grateful we got anything at all.

It seems like there are polarizing opinions about Snow right now - her confession in the cave, her conversation with David in this episode. I tried to run a middle ground here. If you disagree, that's fine, but please be considerate in expressing that disagreement.

* * *

"You didn't believe, David," she sighs. "You needed to believe in us."

He doesn't know what to say, so he presses his lips to her ear. He savors her scent, the feel of her arms around his neck, the way she completes him. He doesn't know what he would do without this.

But he also knows that he doesn't want her to be trapped on this island. Dodging poisoned arrows and Lost Boys would be a life together, but it's not the life that he wants for her. She says that love is being together, but he knows it's more than that. He walked away from his mother once, because he knows that love is sacrifice. He placed his own daughter, barely minutes old, in a wardrobe, never knowing if he'd see her again, because love is sacrifice.

He closes his eyes, and in an instant, he is back in the nursery, fending off blows from the guards. They could have made the decision to be together. They could have all been cursed by Regina. But they never made that decision. They made the sacrifice instead.

He breaks apart from her and cups her face with his hands. He can still see the multitude of emotions in her eyes. Her mix of fear, disappointment, maybe some residual anger. He knows that he's hurt her, but what hurts more is knowing what she would do for him. What she would give up, just to be with him.

"What about Emma?" he whispers.

She presses her lips together, and he sees her blinking back tears. "She's all grown up."

_We missed it, David. What we have with her is unique, but it's not what I wanted. _

"You can still have more children," he points out. "I can – we can do it before you leave-"

Her eyes widen, and she steps back. "How can you say that?" she asks, and he notices that her voice is once again low and angry. "How can you still think that I'm ever going to leave this island without you?"

"Because Emma won't stay here!" he exclaims. "And I would never ask her to." He takes her hands. "You told me once, before you jumped through that portal, that you wouldn't lose her again." She shakes her head slightly, but he presses on, "You didn't lose her then. Don't lose her now."

"I already have," she whispers, and a tear leaks from the corner of her eye, trailing down her cheek. He longs to brush it away, but he keeps his hands on hers, waiting for her to continue. "When the curse broke, I thought that we'd – that I'd – have a chance. I'd finally have my chance to be her mother. I'd known her so well, we talked about so many things when she lived with me in Storybrooke." He is hanging on to her every word. He's never heard her talk about living with Emma before the curse broke.

"She called me her family once," she continues, and her voice breaks. "She told me I was her family, but when the curse broke, everything changed. We _were_ family then, but it no longer felt like it." She draws a shaky breath. "And I've tried so hard, I've done everything to get her to let me in. But she doesn't let me. She still sees herself as an orphan. When she looks at me, all she can see is the woman who abandoned her. She doesn't see me as her mother."

He folds her into his chest as she begins to cry again. He's known that she's felt this way for a while, but it's something else entirely to hear the words come out of his wife's mouth. He's always sensed that Emma would never see them as her parents; he'd always known that deep down he'd have to be something else to her. But it's different with his wife. He thinks back on all the conversations they had while she was pregnant, imagining what their child would be like. What they would do with her. What they would teach her. What she would teach them.

"But she knows that you are," he murmurs in her ear. "And that's all that matters. You're her mother because she sees herself in you." He tilts her chin so he can meet her eyes. "And I know that you see yourself in her."

She blinks. "But it's not what we wanted."

He gives a hollow laugh. "When has anything in our lives ever been what we've wanted?" He's rewarded with a watery smile and he kisses her hands. "I would be honored if you chose to spend the rest of your life with me in Neverland. But I want it to be because of me." She tilts her head, confused, so he adds, "Not because you're running from Emma. I don't want you to stay here because you think she doesn't need you. She needs you, she needs both of us." He feels his chest tighten. "But she can't have me. She can only have you."

"She doesn't need me," she says, shaking her head, but he cuts her off.

"You're her mother," he reminds her. "Of course she does." He smiles gently. "We don't have to decide anything now. Just promise me you won't give up on her yet."

For a long moment, she stares at him. Then she pulls him closer and presses her lips to his. When she pulls back, she leans her forehead against his. He can feel her breath against his lips as she murmurs, "I promise."

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**A/N:** I welcome all feedback, positive or otherwise. Also, if any of you are feeling Gremma-inclined (it was the two-year anniversary of his death, after all), hop on over to my WIP I See the Light in which there are feels, feels, and more feels.


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